Since no one reviewed the last chapter, I don't have anyone to thank. I'm not surprised though - pokemon fanfiction fandom just isn't the same as it used to be all those long years ago. To those of you who do enjoy this story, thank you very much!
.
Chapter Sixteen: Heavy Lies the Crown
The journey to the ruins had been successful. No one had died and Morty had obtained a legendary sword in return. They were supposed to report their findings to Chuck, but Morty decided they needed some rest before returning. After all, Falkner had been unconscious for quite some time.
"Just head to the tavern," Morty said, looking at Falkner. "Take a break. Clear your mind. You've been through a lot."
Falkner raised an eyebrow. "And what about you?"
"You took more of a beating than I did. You just take care of yourself. Have some ale. That'll make you feel better."
"Right," Falkner replied. He didn't look convinced. "We'll talk to Chuck later."
"Yes."
Falkner tilted his head then turned his back, heading towards the tavern. Morty remained in place near the market district until the man had disappeared from his sight. It was easy to lose him in the crowd of peasants. He didn't really see the fascination in browsing stalls looking for items that improved a person's appearance. Amulets. Rings. Bracelets. How did any of it benefit unless it was a magical object?
He observed the crowd watching the peasants go on about their usual business. What a dull life. It was the same routine each day. Wake up each morning. Prepare food. Clean the house. Look after the children. Carry out some menial task. Eat food. Sleep. Then do it all over again the next day. Most of these people probably hadn't seen a man die before.
A girl caught his interest. She dressed in typical peasant attire, yet he noticed her clothing was well kept. Most of the lower slaves had dirt stains or torn articles of cloth, but this girl didn't. She wore a light brown gown made of linen with a red sash around the waist. The girl was even wearing white gloves. He followed her maintaining a healthy distance. Her hair was a shade of brown that reminded him of the bark on the forest trees. The girl from Sabrina's vision. No other slave had a red sash. Sabrina had seen something important about the girl and it was in his best interest to pursue her.
He increased his pace and followed the girl through the winding streets, keeping his eyes focused on her and no one else. Fortunately, with the red sash around her waist, it was much easier to not lose sight of her. The girl turned took a sharp turn to the right heading to what appeared to be the southern exit. She was heading to the forest. How odd. What could a slave possibly want from the forest? Was she not aware of the dangers?
"Are you planning on venturing outside these walls on your own?" Morty called out.
The girl came to an abrupt stop and turned around. "I have permission to leave the city gates on behalf of Clair Blackthorn." She reached down to her shoes and pulled out a small note. Unfolding the note, she held it out towards him. It bore the seal of the royal family. So, the girl was a personal servant of the princess. No wonder Sabrina saw her in her vision. Was Lyra a threat to his plans involving the royals? What role did Sabrina see her play? He'd have to question her later, but for now he had to watch this girl.
"That's fine, but alone? Do you know what's out there?"
She rolled the note up and put it back in her shoe. "Poison ivy and milkweed."
"And wolves and mages… and much worse." He extended a hand towards her. "I'm Morty, a recruit. It's my duty to make sure the people are safe, so I think it's in my best interests to accompany you." Poison ivy and milkweed. She was looking for ingredients to make a poison. Was she trying to kill Clair? No. If she was, she'd be a little more discreet. Clair must have sent her on a mission. But who was Clair trying to poison? Rats? Or a person?
"I'm Lyra." She accepted his handshake.
He gripped her hand firmly. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "Poison ivy and milkweed. Are you trying to brew a deadly potion?
She released her hand. "It's for the rats. I need some ale. Honey. Poison ivy. Milkweed and some strawberries."
A potion to make someone feel like they had come down with the stomach flu. Cowardly but highly effective in removing someone from your life for a few days. A small dosage wouldn't kill an adult, but it would leave them in crippling pain for quite some time. "Strawberries? Whoever gave you those ingredients clearly have no clue what they are doing. You want blueberries. You do want to kill rats, right?"
She frowned. "You know about herbal remedies and poisons?"
"I'm a mercenary. Well, was. I had to learn these things if I wanted to survive. I didn't grow up in a protected city like this. My home was surrounded by trees." He gestured towards the gates. "We should probably get moving. Those plants aren't going to come to you."
"Right." She headed towards the gate and approached the soldier.
The man's face covered by his helm so Morty couldn't identify him. Not that it mattered. None of the people outside the royal family, Sabrina and now Lyra, was of any concern to him.
"Um, excuse me sir. I require passage outside the gates to access the forest. I have permission from Clair Blackthorn. She told me to show you this." She reached down and grabbed the note, but the soldier shook his hands.
"I'm escorting her into the woods," Morty added.
"You don't need to show me."
He opened the gates and Lyra put the note back once more. Once the gates were opened, Lyra thanked the guard and led the way outside.
The gates closed behind them. Morty turned to the forest. They had to walk along a dusty road for some time before they'd reach the forest boundary. He was tired from his previous journey, but he wasn't going to let this girl venture alone. She was worth keeping alive. As the personal servant to Clair, he'd be able to learn more secrets about the royals. Lyra might even know the secret exits out of the castle and other things of a similar nature.
He walked along the dusty road, the heat of the sun burning into his skin. That was one thing he liked about living in the forest. The thick canopy shielded most of the sun's rays. "So, a mercenary…. What brought you here?" Lyra said, turning her head right to face him.
"I wanted a new life. And yourself? I presume you're not a local."
She shook her head. "I'm from New Bark Town. I lost both parents to bandits."
"I've been there once," he started. To kill a man. Someone called Gregory Hart.
"Gregory Hart," Lyra replied slowly. "My father."
His eyebrows arched. Gregory Hart was her father. He had killed her father. Sabrina had a vision of this girl, and oracles didn't have visions of unimportant people. "That's unfortunate."
"I wish I could find them and hunt them down myself," she said quietly, curling her fingers into fists. "Those bandits took my parents from me and my life as well. If it wasn't for the bandit raids, I'd still be at home with my family. All I can think is why? Why did they come to New Bark Town? Our village had been undisturbed for decades."
For once, he felt genuine sympathy. This poor girl had been taken from her home and thrown into a life of slavery for a royal family who didn't even care about her well-being. "Bandits raid to survive." He certainly wasn't going to tell her the truth that he had been the one responsible for robbing her of a life with her father. "You'll find them someday."
"I don't know why they let me live… the bandits." She furrowed her brows. "Archer was his name. I remember his face. The smug smirk. The dark cruel eyes. The bloodied knife."
"If I ever come across someone called Archer, I'll be sure to drive my blade into his heart for you."
She shook her head. "It wouldn't be the same. They were my parents. It's only right that I be the one to avenge their deaths." She then sighed. "But I can't do anything as a servant, and I'll be leaving in a few days to Unova. Clair married the Unovan prince."
"Prince Benga." Clair could not leave the city which meant he had to stop Prince Benga from leaving Blackthorn. The best way to guarantee that was death. He looked Lyra's list. Poison. Of course. That was the answer. Poison Benga. Fatally wound him. Lyra didn't seem to know much about herbs. He could change the list. Add a few more ingredients. The man had to die. Sure, Lyra would be blamed for the fall, but she was just a servant girl. Her life did not matter…. But Sabrina had seen the girl in her vision.
"But you don't want to leave."
She shook her head. "I've only been here for a few weeks."
What was so important about Lyra? He frowned. She could speak well. That was rare for people in the countryside. She could also read as evident by her understanding of the instructions Clair had given her. Why would a country girl need to know how to read? There was something different about her, but he couldn't understand what. He had to learn more. Killing Benga would give him time to build up trust with her and find her the proof he needed.
"Understandable. You've found a new home."
"I don't have a choice." She fell silent, focusing on the path ahead. "This is my life now."
He shook his head. "It doesn't have to be."
"Not everyone has a choice."
"Yes, they do. You could leave anytime wanted to. You could leave right now, and no one could do anything. You don't owe these people a damn thing so why stay? What keeps you back?"
She looked at him again, eyebrow raised. "What keeps you here then?"
"Money. A man's gotta eat, right?"
"These people need me," she said slowly. "Clair's a wild spirit and Lance is… troubled."
"And you think you can help them?"
She nodded. "Yes, I think I can."
"You're awfully confident."
"And you're awfully not."
He chuckled, raising his hands to concede defeat. "All right, you got me. But you are facing a difficult task. What makes you think they are going to listen to a servant?"
"I just have faith, that's all."
She was confident for a servant with no powers or tools of her own. He would've laughed if not for Sabrina's visions. Oracles did not lie. Their visions were not to be mocked. "I hope you can make a difference then."
The forest was just up ahead. Somewhere, Naoko was lurking. The woman probably had some ravens watching him from the trees as he spoke. He continued to trudge along the path. Fortunately, he had chosen to wear lighter armour unlike the other soldiers. He couldn't imagine how hellish the walk would be in a full suit if armour.
Lyra ignored him and walked ahead towards the bushes. "Well, this was easier than I thought," she said, kneeling before the bushes. "And here I thought forests were full of dangers."
To the left he saw stalks of poison ivy and to the right milkweed. "You're not too far from the safety of the castle. The guards would scout this place out and clear it of danger." Morty withdrew his sword. "Here, let me cut it off. You hold the stalk."
"All right." She held the poison ivy firmly as he sliced it off, careful to be gentle with it.
He cut off two stalks making it six petals of poison ivy in total before turning his attention to the milkweed. "How much milkweed did you need?"
"Two stalks." She made a face as she drew closer to the bush. "Oh, what is that smell?"
A sweet scent ripe with an overtone of honey filled the air. "That's the scent of milkweed," Morty answered. He cut off the first stalk and brushed his finger a little close to a thorn, the sharp point pricking into his skin drawing blood.
"Oh, are you okay?" Lyra said, alarmed.
Morty nodded, rubbing the blood off against the stalk. "Just a minor injury. I'm not going to die or become infected. I didn't get any poison into my system and if I had, it would be hardly noticeable." He cut off another stalk then put his sword back into its sheath.
She climbed to her feet after picking up the batch of plants in her left hand. "Looks like I wasn't in any danger… And you were lucky yourself. Did your hand slip?"
Pressing this thumb and index finger together, he nodded. "Perhaps it is both our lucky days then. Arceus casts his blessing down upon us."
She frowned, seemingly unconvinced, but then shrugged it off. "You said you lived in a place surrounded by trees. What was that like?"
"Suspenseful. You always felt like you were being watched. There are more than just wolves that lurk in the forest you know. Bears. Deer. Boars. Mages of course. I'm sure you've heard about them before." He watched her eyes, studying her reaction closely. She didn't seem bothered by the mention of the mages. Perhaps she didn't know much about them.
"Yes, my mother used to talk about the mages."
A raven's caw made him look up. Just as he had expected, there was a large black murkrow sitting on the highest branch of the tree above looking downwards at him. Naoko had her spy. He hadn't learned anything about the sceptre yet. That was something else he had to worry about.
Lowering his gaze to ground level, he said, "They're not bad you know. Magic isn't something to be feared. It's something to be embraced. The people you serve… we serve… they fear it because they do not understand it. You can't change how you were born."
"I know. I'm not afraid of magic."
"Smart girl. Most people fear it."
"And you don't?"
He shook his head. "No. I'm not afraid of anything."
"Not even death?"
"Especially not death." Ho-Oh was a god of resurrection and rebirth. Once they obtained all three relics, they could raise the dead. Why fear death at all? "As much as I enjoyed this short conversation, I do have my own duties to return to. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lyra. I'm sure we will meet again. I should probably check the forest for any signs of wolf tracks and the like, but you head back. The road will be safe."
She smiled. "Thanks."
"Not a problem." She turned her back to him and started walking along the dusty path back to the kingdom.
That had gone smoothly. Good. He didn't want to be forced into a situation when he had to use some magic to ensure she didn't get harmed. He glanced down at this thumb and pressed his other thumb against it.
"Prince Benga must die. The moment he consumes this plant, may the poison spread through his body infecting every part of him until he dies."
.
"I found him passed out on the base of the hill not too far from the campsite."
"You were lucky you found him in time."
Lance opened his eyes and groaned, waiting for his eyesight to adjust to his surroundings. He expected to find himself staring up at the sky on a field of luscious green grass, but instead he found himself looking at plain wooden walls. "Arceus, what happened?" He tried to sit upright but searing pain down his spine made him reconsider.
"He's awake," Bruno exclaimed, rushing into the room.
Elder Li followed close behind, carrying a small bowl of some type of soup. "You need to drink this." The man laid the soup down on the table next to Lance.
Lance forced himself to sit up, ignoring the pain in his spine. Peering down at the soup, he scrunched up his face at the sight of some chunky slimy pieces. "What is that?"
"I won't tell you because then you won't drink it. It'll make you feel better. Drink."
He reluctantly took the bowl and brought it to his mouth, breathing in the bitter scent of the hot soup. He took a small sip, savouring the taste – it tasted like a bitter herb that he couldn't name – then drank some more, avoiding the big chunky pieces of meat. "How did you find me?"
"I came back for you," Bruno said. "I brought Lorelei back, then rode out for you. I couldn't leave you out there alone, even if you wanted me too, and I found you unconscious on the grass. I brought you back here to the Elder, and he said he'd heal you. And well, here we are." He looked at the older man.
"What afflicts you is unlike anything I've seen before," Elder Li said.
"I've been told that a few times."
The man reached down and pressed a hand against his head. "You were burning up before. In a bad shape when Bruno brought you here. Pale as anything. I thought you were on the brink of death's door. I tried the usual potions, but your body rejected them. It was Lorelei who helped. I only made you feel more comfortable, but it was Lorelei who brought you back."
Lance raised an eyebrow. "She's a witch doctor?"
"Not quite…" Bruno and Elder Li exchanged glances then the older man nodded and exited the room. Once the man was gone, Bruno looked at Lance again. "Lorelei isn't your ordinary witch doctor. She's a mage, Lance."
Lance dropped a hand to his sword… only to find it wasn't there. Instead, he gripped the edge of his bed and glared. "A mage? You had a mage watch over me?" As if mages hadn't already done enough harm to him.
Raising his hands as if he thought Lance would strike him, Bruno added, "She's not dangerous, Lance. Without her help, you would have died. You might want to talk to her."
Agatha had suppressed a part of him. That's what Jacob had said. A curse upon him to control his… wild side. Werewolf side. Even Lyra had pointed out the mark on his neck was a binding spell. It all made sense, yet his mind refused to accept it. He couldn't be a werewolf. The very creature he had been told to fear and hate. "Fine. I'll talk to Lorelei."
Bruno left the room. A few moments later, Lorelei entered. She fiddled with her thumbs, probably uncomfortable to be in his presence. And who could blame her? He was the grandson of a king who hated mages. "I'm not going to hurt you," Lance said. "I don't think I could even if I wanted too." His muscles were still a bit stiff, and he didn't have his weapons on him.
"I almost considered letting you die," Lorelei said slowly, keeping a safe distance.
Lance forced a dry laugh. "I wouldn't blame you. I'm sure there are a lot of people who want me dead. Particularly the mages."
She grabbed a chair and pulled it over to him then sat down, keeping out of arm's reach. "You have a good friend. My mother would've killed you and savoured your demise, but I am not like her. Like Bruno… myself… You follow orders from those above you. We are quite alike you and I."
"I'm not a mage."
She smiled. "No. You're not. But there is magic on you. Powerful magic."
He rolled his eyes. "Tell me something that's new. I know it's a binding spell."
"You know."
He rubbed his neck. "Yeah. I found out recently. A mage attacked me sometime ago. Her magic did nothing to me. I came across a werewolf called Brawley and he said I had magic all over me. And then Lyra… found a marking on the back of my neck." He didn't mention Jacob, preferring to leave that part out of the conversation. "I get these episodes every month around a particular time. I don't get sick. Not in the way other people do. But this is… something else."
She nodded. "I know."
"How?"
"There's magical blood in your veins, Lance. A mage can always sense magic. It's not just on you – but in you too." She gestured to his clothes, drawing his attention to a few patches of crimson dried blood. A reminder of the punches Jacob had given him. "The blood on you. That's how I could tell."
"I'm not a mage," he repeated.
"You're something else entirely."
He looked away, unsettled. Something else entirely.
"You're not going to tell anyone about me, are you?"
He turned to her again. Her hands were clasped together, but she kept twiddling her thumbs, unable to keep her fingers still. "The law says all mages must be executed," he said slowly. Once, he would've said those words aloud with strength, but now those words were hollow. He was reminded of Lyra. Would you have me executed if I were a mage, Lyra had said.
"I had hoped you'd be above such thought."
He sighed. "I'm not going to report you, Lorelei. You just saved my life."
"Do I have your word?"
"Yes. I swear it. The only people who have been telling me the truth have been mages and werewolves. Everyone else I thought I could trust… They speak in lies, or they're afraid of the truth and want to hide it as best as they can." He gave her a brief smile. "Bruno cares about you deeply. If he trusts you, then I do as well."
She exhaled deeply, her posture relaxing. "That I'm glad to hear. Maybe the Blackthorns won't have to be a cursed name forever."
"I think the damage has already been done."
"Once there was a time your people worked alongside mages."
He sighed again. "It won't be easy. My grandfather still lives. People still distrust magic."
"You're in a position of power, Lance. You can influence their thinking. Change happens from those in command. An end of an era is coming, Lance – you can lead change. I'm going to let you rest." She turned her back and prepared to leave the room.
"Wait," Lance called out.
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. "What is it?"
"Where can I find the werewolves? Bruno said you would know."
She raised a brow. "You want to seek out the wolves?"
"I have questions."
"A ring of dead trees in the heart of the forest to the east of Blackthorn. It's a place of old magic. I'm sure you'll be able to feel it when you near the place." She furrowed her brows. "But just be careful – the truth can be hard to accept." Before Lance could speak another word, Lorelei exited.
He lay back down and gazed up at the ceiling, the bowl remaining on his stomach, finding comfort from its warmth. What truths lay ahead?
.
Gary stormed through the castle entrance. The castle guards had tried hard to stop him but granted him entrance upon recognizing him. To think that he had to convince people he was Samuel Oak's grandson still. It was as if people had forgotten Samuel had a grandson and so they overlooked him because he had chosen to work at a tavern.
He needed to see his grandfather and he wasn't going to leave until he had answers. The memories he had obtained from the priest had to be hinting at something. Why show that specific memory otherwise? He uttered a growl. None of this would be happening if not for Bugsy. He'd be happily working at the tavern listening to the latest gossip, but instead here he was seeking a conversation with his grandfather for the first time in years.
The castle halls hadn't changed since his last visit four years ago. Red banners of the family house were draped on the walls and statues of fallen knights lined both sides of the halls. A yellow carpet with red edgings was positioned in the centre starting at the exit and ending at the entrance of the staircase. There were several slaves in the room scrubbing at the copper coloured tiles. He ignored them and walked across the carpet, taking the stairs upwards.
The second floor was home to the throne room, the library and the armoury of the knights. The bedrooms were located on the top floor whilst the kitchen was on the ground floor. The castle dungeon was underground. He hadn't been down there before, but he had heard there were quite a few rats who lived in the darkness. Criminals that were supposed to be interrogated by the king were kept down here. These people were generally traitors or enemy commanders.
He reached the end of the hall then turned to take a left path where his grandfather's private study room was. The door was closed, but he knew the man would be inside. Samuel was always inside working on his experiments and research notes. The royal wedding had been the only time he had seen the old man leave the castle. "Grandfather. Open the door. It's me. Gary. You know your grandson that people seem to forget."
The door opened moments after. Samuel poked his head through the opening. "You remembered me."
Gary pushed the door open, so he could step through. The old man stepped back. "I've been trying to forget, believe me, but I'm here because you owe me an explanation." He slammed the door shut and leaned against it his arms folded across his chest. The sceptre was hiding under his shirt. "I'm not leaving and you're not leaving until I get my answers."
Samuel sighed, and rubbed his temples, drawing Gary's attention to the black bags beneath his eyes. Obviously, the man was taking upon a lot of work and it was affecting his sleeping routine. Not that Gary cared, but the man did look significantly older than four years ago. "And I have questions for you. Lance said he had been informed that you were outside the castle walls looking for ingredients for me. You and I both know that is a lie."
So, Brock had met his grandfather. Typical. But he couldn't blame Brock. How could he lie directly to the king's grandson? He could lose his job and thus his income and his family would suffer for it. "I was searching for this," he said, reaching a hand under his shirt, his fingers wrapping around the sceptre. He pulled it out and held it towards his grandfather. The man's eyes widened. "I see by your expression you know about this."
He looked down at the sceptre. "Yes."
"Good. Then this conversation will go more smoothly than anticipated."
"Where did you find it? How?" Samuel replied, taking the sceptre.
Gary folded his arms again. "That eccentric fellow, Bugsy. He's been keeping a close eye on me over the past few months since his arrival. I thought it was because I listened to him when no one else would, but it turns out he's a mage. Yes. You heard right. One of them… One of us." He looked directly into his grandfather's dark eyes. "Nathaniel Oak was the High Priest. He started teaching others magic. Then they were betrayed by one of their own who went off to form what we've come to know as the necromancers. That's what I got from the memories I was shown."
The man looked up eyebrows raised. "Memories?"
"The sceptre belonged to him. It grants the ability to see the memories of the dead or at least his memories. I don't know if it works on anyone else and I don't want to try. But what do you know of Nathaniel? Why is this sceptre so special? Why would Bugsy want me to find it?"
Samuel placed the sceptre on the table behind him. "You're the current heir to the Oak line."
Gary noticed there was a batch of violet flowers chopped up into smaller pieces. He recognized it. Wolfsbane. Apparently, it was toxic to wolves. The plant was found in the lower slopes of the mountains, but hard to obtain because of the strange creatures that lived there. "I'm aware of that."
Samuel continued. "Through you, our family name lives on should you have a son. Bloodlines are important. Magic started with our ancestors. It continues through you."
"And my sister?"
"She has chosen to be a witch doctor in a different region."
"So, I'm important because of some bloodline, but why now? I was shown an awfully specific memory. Nathaniel was confronted by a man called Ghetsis. He was a cripple and dying of some disease that left him paralysed in certain parts."
Samuel rubbed his chin. "Nathaniel started the priesthood. He found others with magical powers and brought them together under one roof to teach them how to control it and use it for good. Nathaniel had the sceptre, Ghetsis was given a staff to help him with mobility and the last was given to Krahiya who wore an amulet. These three were the strongest of the priesthood and they formed an alliance calling it the First Triumvirate. They would use their magic for the greater good of humankind."
And thus, the mages came to be. "And they had a falling out I presume. Ghetsis was dying… That's what I saw in the vision. He was talking about being reborn again and having control over the dead."
Samuel remained silent for a few moments, as if pondering what words to say next, before speaking again. "And that's how the necromancers came to be. Ghetsis convinced others to join him in his cause – Nathaniel notes in his journals that the man had become increasingly erratic over a short period of time since falling ill to the disease. He became obsessed with life and death and looked for ways to be reborn again, but he fell to the illness before he could achieve a plan."
"There are other tombs then."
"You already found the tomb of Nathaniel. Krahiya's one is in an underwater cavern to the south. Ghetsis's burial place has not been given a location in the record books." He picked up the sceptre again.
"You think Bugsy belongs to this necromancer cult. That's why he sought me out."
"They have spies everywhere."
Gary forced a dry laugh. "So, you've known about them all this time?"
"Yes, but the king does not believe in their existence. Since the Time of Troubles ended, there hasn't been word of a necromancer. We've only had the wolves and the other mages to deal with and that's why no one has paid attention to the cult." He looked down at the sceptre once more. "…But this changes everything. If this sceptre falls into the hands of the necromancer cult, they will use its power to raise the dead and ultimately bring back their leader."
"How though?"
"These relics were created with the blood of the owner." He held the sceptre out. "You need to hide this someplace. No one must know about it.'
Gary frowned. "Hide it? I didn't even want to find it in the first place. I was forced into it by Bugsy and now I have this damned weapon that people want. Just exactly how am I supposed to hide it? These people were able to find the sceptre. They'll find it within this kingdom. They're probably going to send an army here to take it by force."
The bloody sceptre would be the ruin of Blackthorn and it was all because he had trusted Bugsy. Now the man turned out to be a spy for the enemy. He knew what Gary looked like. Necromancers would come looking for him now that he had the sceptre. Bugsy could've taken it by force, but he wouldn't be able to use it because he wasn't an Oak.
"You must hide it."
Gary threw his hands up in the air. "They know my face. They'll come looking. We have to tell someone."
"You were foolish to wander off with this Bugsy fellow. Didn't I tell you not to trust anyone outside family?"
Several times. It was one of his grandfather's favourite teachings. Do not trust anyone outside family, not even your king. Only family members would be there for you every day on your deathbed. Other people would only show up for the funeral to say a few words, but your passing would not leave such an impact on them. "He was hounding me."
"You can't bring this to anyone else – no one is going to believe you."
"So, what am I supposed to do now? Dig a hole and hide it underground and hope no one finds it?"
"Make your own protection spell."
Gary snorted. "Perform magic? I wouldn't even know where to begin and besides, magic is forbidden within this kingdom. I don't want to have my head on a chopping block. I like my head."
Cast a protection spell like Nathaniel had to prevent other people not of his bloodline stealing his treasures. But how was he supposed to achieve that? Did he have to access the man's memories again to learn how to do that? It wasn't like he could ask someone for help. Returning to work at the tavern didn't seem likely anymore. What if there were other spies? After all, that's where Bugsy had found him. How could he even go back to work at the tavern? His life had changed for the worse all because he had trusted Bugsy. Now he had to perform a spell to protect himself.
"You don't have much of a choice now, Gary."
"Thanks for the support, grandfather," he replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Don't think this event changes anything between us. I'm not going to spend my life in this room like you." Perhaps it was childish to bear a grudge against his grandfather after all these years, but it wasn't like the man had bothered to try to repair their relationship. As far as Gary was concerned, Samuel should be the one apologizing. "I won't forget what you told me. You didn't even want to acknowledge me as your grandson let alone even talk to me. Four years. Four years since we last had a conversation. Are you too proud to admit when you've been wrong?"
The man gave him a weary look. "I offered you a job. You chose to work at the tavern instead."
"Because I didn't want to be like you and spend my days in here."
"Your father-"
"-would have been disappointed, I know. Or at least that's what you claim, but he's dead so I guess I will never know what he genuinely thought," he retorted, his brows furrowed. "Don't bring my parents into this. They're not here to defend themselves. But I'm leaving. I have what I need. You could tell the king. He'll listen to you. You're the closest friend he has. Our enemies will come looking for me and I don't know any magic to defend myself with. So, if you genuinely care about me, you'll do something to help. I'm sure my parents would've wanted that."
Before his grandfather could defend himself, Gary opened the door and walked himself out.
.
If you like, share your thoughts! If you don't like, understandable.
